


I'll Kiss It All Better

by violent_ends



Series: Happiness Comes From Within, Bitches! [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Devil Face (Lucifer TV), Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, F/M, Fluff, Insecure Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Light Angst, LuciferLockDown, Post-Season/Series 04, PromptSmiles, Romantic Fluff, Soft Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23245159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violent_ends/pseuds/violent_ends
Summary: “What is it, love?” Lucifer has his head tilted to the side, studying her. One hand leaves her middle to brush a lock of hair away from her forehead, then lingers to cup her jaw, and it seems to be the anchor she needs.“Your other face,” she blurts. “I want to kiss that, too.”
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Happiness Comes From Within, Bitches! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670251
Comments: 36
Kudos: 441
Collections: Prompts for Smiles





	I'll Kiss It All Better

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the #PromptsForSmiles project on Twitter, this one fulfills two prompts: Deckerstar cuddling & Chloe kissing Lucifer's Devil face. Here, have some fluff!

“Lucifer!” Chloe giggles uncontrollably, “Lucifer, stop! It tickles!”

He is relentless, long pianist fingers finding the most sensitive spots over her belly, hips and ribs – a torturer as many see him as, but her body is his only kingdom now.

“That is precisely the point, Detective. Why would I stop?” he says as Chloe squirms in his grip, twisting and turning to try and get away. It started innocently enough, with him inadvertently brushing that place near her hipbone that makes her automatically laugh, for some reason. But of course, as devilish as he is, he could not resist the temptation to use any weakness to his advantage.

They’re in his bed, Chloe in a tank top and a pair of shorts, Lucifer wearing his customary pair of black silk pyjama pants. Their laughter echoes through the penthouse like chants and prayers along the length of a high-vaulted cathedral, and the sound feels just as sacred; they are no saints, neither of them is, but they don’t wish to be.

“Stop! It’s too much, you’re killing me!” Chloe squirms and squirms until, in a frenzied motion, she ends up elbowing Lucifer in the ribs while he’s trying to pin her down from behind.

“Ow!” the Devil yelps as he goes down, one hand clutching his side. “Ugh, you minx,” he groans. “Pesky, Detective-induced vulnerability. It’s hardly fair.”

Chloe laughs at his tendency for drama: if anything, his vulnerability makes things even between them. But even though there was no real offense behind his words, she suddenly feels a tiny bit guilty, so she scoots down his side and gently pries his hand away to kiss the spot she hit.

“Better?” she asks. After all, any pain she causes is hers to heal, too.

Lucifer looks down at her with that unbearable tenderness he seems to be the unknowing king of.

“Much, much better,” he replies with a smile. It makes Chloe so giddy that she can’t help but press another kiss against his skin, and then another, peppering a series of quick pecks from around his pectoral all the way up his sternum. Lucifer gives a short laugh as he realizes her intentions, while Chloe’s journey leads her over his collarbones, up his neck, and finally to his face.

“I just want to kiss every single inch of you,” she sighs – she sounds so ridiculous these days, but she’s way past caring. There has been so much suffering between them, caused both by them and by others, that no amount of sweet words ever seems to be enough to wash it away. She’s trying, though. And she’ll keep trying.

“By all means, Detective, be my guest,” Lucifer says, tightening his arms around her now that she’s basically sprawled on top of him, legs kicking in the air like a little girl in the grass. Chloe doesn’t need to be told twice.

She avoids his mouth on purpose, for now, kissing his chin, jawline and cheekbone. Then it’s the tip of his nose, and the other side of his face, before leaving pecks over his forehead and on his closed eyelids. She pulls back to look at him as he opens his eyes slowly, beaming. Only then she kisses him on the lips, cupping his face in her hands, feeling his smile spread against her own. One of his hands slides up her back to tangle in her hair and angle her head just so, but there is no real urgency in it: there has been, before, but they’re resting now. Well, at _Chloe’s_ request, obviously.

She pulls back from the kiss, breathless even from one so simple, or maybe precisely because of it. Their foreheads seem to find each other on their own, as usual, and the feel of Lucifer’s chest breathing under her own is so natural, so soothing. Weirdly enough, sometimes Chloe needs this kind of basic reminder: that he’s real, that he’s _here_ , and that he breathes and bleeds and sleeps just like her. That he might be as old as the world itself – no, _older_ – but when in bed with her, he is nothing but the man who loves her, who adores her, who would die for her (and _did_ ).

“That wasn’t _every_ inch of me, Detective,” he suddenly breaks the silence, eyebrows wiggling suggestively, a wolfish grin on his stupidly handsome face. “You missed a couple of quite _fundamental_ spots, I'd say.”

Chloe slaps him lightly on the shoulder, snorting. “Stop making everything dirty, we’re _cuddling_.”

He hugs her a bit more tightly at the words, endeared. “Oh, believe me, I'm not complaining.”

 _You kinda did_ , Chloe almost says, but keeps her mouth shut. Because thinking about it… it’s sort of true, isn’t it? That wasn’t every inch of him, not even every inch of his _face_ , because… he has another. Will she dare?

“What is it, love?” Lucifer has his head tilted to the side, studying her. One hand leaves her middle to brush a lock of hair away from her forehead, then lingers to cup her jaw, and it seems to be the anchor she needs.

“Your other face,” she blurts. “I want to kiss that, too.”

He tenses up; she knew he would. This thing between them is so strong, and yet so fragile. There are mistakes they don’t talk about anymore, and his Devil face… seeing it started it all. He has not shown her again since coming back, and she gets it: there was no need. But what if she wants him to, now?

“You don’t have to,” he says, wary, guarded. “I… I don’t want you to feel like you have to prove yourself to me. I know you accept it, and it’s enough.”

Is it, though? Another question forms in Chloe’s head, and she can’t stop herself from voicing it. “Has… has anyone else ever…?” she trails off, but she knows Lucifer understood.

Hesitantly, he replies, “Yes. Eve has.”

It’s Chloe’s time to tense up. What a blow that is, though deep down she has always suspected it, given the easiness with which the very first woman once told her _Why would it scare me?_ Did it happen when she caught a glimpse of them on the dancefloor of Lux, from the top of the stairs? Or later, in _here_?

It’s not a competition, but in a way, Chloe feels like she’s behind. She wants this for him, _needs_ to be the one giving it to him.

Lucifer’s hand slides behind her ear, holding her as his face falls a little. “Darling, have I made you sad? Don’t be. It’s okay.”

Chloe swallows. “Do you… not want me to? I mean… do you feel like I have not… earned it?”

His eyes grow wide. “What? No! What are you talking about? Seeing it is not a _prize_ , Detective. It’s _punishment_.”

Chloe brings her hands to the sides of his face, elbows lightly resting on his chest. “It doesn’t have to be. It _wouldn’t_ be, for me. I- I want to. But only if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

She can see he's slowly getting there, his barriers coming down under her touch. “It doesn’t. I just don’t want to make _you_ uncomfortable, or… or scared.”

Chloe kisses him on the lips again, briefly but intensely, her thumbs firm on his cheekbones. “You won’t. I promise.”

“Pinky swear? Scout’s honor?” Lucifer jokes, a bit of his usual playfulness creeping back into his words.

“Cross my heart,” Chloe reassures him. Then she pulls back a bit, but watching closely. Lucifer’s face, still human, suddenly looks puzzled.

Chloe frowns. “What is it?”

“Do you, uhm… want it all? Or just the face?”

Oh. “You can choose?”

“Yes. It just takes more concentration.” To keep it limited to his face, Chloe presumes, and that’s what makes the decision easy for her.

“I want you to be relaxed. Whatever requires _less_ concentration, is what I want.”

He was probably hoping for a different answer, but still, he nods. “Very well. Your serving of Devil, medium rare, coming right up,” he jokes to defuse the tension of the moment, making her laugh.

Chloe sits back, straddling his waist, and waits. Lucifer’s hands stroke her legs for a moment, from the tender skin under her knees to the top of her thighs; the easy gesture of a lover, a motion he’s accustomed to by now, one that clearly grounds him. He needs basic reminders too, sometimes: that she’s here, and that she won’t run away anymore.

Chloe doesn’t know if it’s on purpose, but redness spreads right from under her palms where they’re resting on his chest, as if prompted by her touch. Lucifer’s skin slowly changes in color and texture and feel, his body slightly broader, too. The hollows under his collarbones are deeper, so deep she could sink her fingers into them, and his caresses along her legs turn almost tickling because of short but pointed nails.

She inhales sharply, bracing herself, but not because she’s afraid. She’s just scared of doing something that will upset him.

“Does it hurt?” she asks softly, but doesn’t wait for an answer to bend down and kiss the spot where Lucifer’s heart beats. He’s so warm now that the pumping of blood is even more obvious, a persistent drum under her lips, further emphasized by the way his breath catches in surprise.

“Not- not anymore. It only did in the beginning, when I… fell.”

Well, good. Chloe doesn’t want him to hurt anymore.

She trails her hands over his shoulders and down his arms and leaves kisses up his throat, over prominent tendons of burnt flesh. Lucifer tilts his head back to give her more space, his eyes shut tight. But when Chloe’s hands find the sides of his face, _this_ face, she gently tells him, “Look at me. Open your eyes.”

He does. In the end, the Devil always does whatever she tells him. And there is beauty in it, in _this_ ; beauty in his willingness to show her what he finds most ugly about himself. Chloe almost wishes she could do the same, that all her past sins of pettiness, jealousy, even naivety and stupidity, could show on her skin for him to see, for him to kiss. Buried where they are, they’re harder to reach and forgive, though she knows he has done so regardless.

She does the same as with his human face, starting with his chin and cheeks, but it takes longer because without any hair, there is more skin to kiss. Her lips press against him in quick succession, behind his ears and on top of his head, smacking so fast and noisily that Lucifer laughs at her childishness.

Finally, Chloe kisses down his nose all the way to the tip, and then lingers close to his mouth.

“I love you,” she whispers, swimming in the red of her fallen angel’s eyes. “I love you, and you’re beautiful.”

She can tell he doesn’t know what to say: all he can do is kiss her, and so that’s what he does. They inhale together at the novelty of it, and Chloe whimpers softly at the feel of Lucifer’s slightly rougher tongue sliding past her lips, at the delicious sting of his nails digging into her hipbones to press her against him almost without meaning to.

Without breaking the kiss, she finds his hands and laces their fingers together. Only then she pulls back, reveling in the way Lucifer tries to chase after her mouth, dazed and out of breath; but he settles back against the pillow to watch her reverently when she starts kissing one of his hands and then the other – fingers, palms, backs and wrists, everything.

Finally, she lets one of his hands rest against her cheek, keeping it there with her own.

“Is this okay?”

Lucifer smiles under her, overwhelmed. His hand presses closer, not simply resting there anymore but cradling her face, and Chloe leans into it.

“It’s bloody perfect.”

Chloe smiles back at him and angles her head to kiss the center of his palm. Then she leans down again, covering him fully, and rolls to her right while dragging him along. She ends up on her side with him in her arms, his face tucked under her chin. It’s a familiar position, but she realizes she misses a tangle of dark hair to play with, so she focuses on stroking his back. She follows the uneven pattern of blisters and ridges, crevices and too smooth planes, upward swirls of scar tissue that feel like ancient, dormant volcanoes under her curious fingertips.

Like this, suddenly, he seems to be the smallest of the two even though it clearly isn’t so. She is the star-maker and he is the star, a little ball of dust and fire floating in space until she can catch it and mold it into energy, into matter, into life.

Because tonight, even if just this once, with her kisses she has been the bringer of light.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like, check out the manip one of the prompters made for this fic! You can find it [here](https://twitter.com/_DarkSarcasm/status/1241440585371619328?s=19).


End file.
